The Exorcist
by PaperbackWriter2
Summary: A work in progress--what madness would ensue if Buffy befriended a priest?
1. The Exorcist--Part 1

Dawn waited on the sidewalk as Buffy locked the front door. Together they headed down the street. Dawn trudged along as if she carried a load of rocks in her backpack.  
  
"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Buffy said.  
  
"I'd miss the review for the English test," Dawn answered. "I'll be okay . . . we'll be okay."  
  
She took Buffy's hand and they walked to Sunnydale High like two kids on a field trip, swinging their hands. Dawn pulled away and joined the students streaming into the building. No good-byes. Not this morning.  
  
Buffy hurried the few blocks to the Magic Box. Everyone was already there. Anya was helping a customer. Willow had three books open in front of her already. Xander, running late for work, tossed a box of donuts onto the table, nodded at Buffy and left.  
  
Buffy couldn't bear the sight of the empty chair across from Willow, even for a few seconds, so she slid into it.  
  
"Did Dawn get off to school alright?" Willow asked.  
  
"Yeah . . . I'm just checking in. I have one more errand to run this morning."  
  
"Want some company?"  
  
"Thanks, Will, but it's something I need to do alone," Buffy replied.  
  
Willow stuck out her lower lip. Buffy smiled back.  
  
"No poutage. It's not gonna work on me. I won't be gone long." She ducked out while Anya was still busy. Anya always meant well, but today her blunt comments would sting.  
  
Sunnydale's main street wasn't too busy, with most people already at work or school. Buffy shoved her hands in her pockets and shut off the thoughts swirling around in her mind. She looked down at her feet.  
  
One step at a time.  
  
With 43 churches packed into the Sunnydale area, it didn't take long for her to reach one. Its steeple cast a cross-shaped shadow on the street.  
  
"St. Michael's Catholic Church. Bingo at 6:00," the sign out front read.  
  
"I hope I don't walk right into a mass," Buffy muttered as she opened the door.  
  
She found what she was looking for right inside the foyer, a table with an altar in front of it. Candles in glass cups covered its surface. The two that were lit caught her eye. Someone had come even earlier than she had.  
  
She picked up a long match and lit a candle in a red glass. Red is good, she thought. Blue is too sad, too . . . blue. But Mom liked blue. She lit a blue one before blowing out the match, and knelt at the altar.  
  
"We're not okay, Mom," she whispered. "But I think we'll get there eventually."  
  
It was over so quickly, but it didn't seem right to just walk away, so Buffy entered the deserted sanctuary and slid into a pew in the back. Anguish overflowed, and she wept. Her cries echoed through the church.  
  
Jamison's hand froze halfway to his mouth. Is that someone crying? He set his muffin down on the desk and brushed a few crumbs from his T- shirt. Where'd I put that box of tissues? He grabbed it from a bookshelf and tiptoed down the hall. 


	2. The Exorcist--Part 2

As he passed through the foyer, Jamison saw the candles. He lit a couple himself every morning because a lot of people seemed too timid to be the first to light a candle. So whoever was crying probably lit a candle on their way in.  
  
It was a girl. A blonde. He sat next to her and thrust a handful of tissues under her nose just in time to catch the big glob of snot about to fall. This wasn't a dewy tears movie cry. This was pent-up emotion finally getting release. This was an ugly cry.  
  
He didn't speak, and he didn't touch her, except to occasionally wipe her nose. They sat this way for what seemed like hours, until her sobbing subsided into hiccups. Jamison stuffed used tissues into the now empty box.  
  
"I'm kinda glad you're done," he said. "All we have left his one-ply toilet paper."  
  
She half-smiled, drying her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I had all that in me."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry for. We're all full of goo inside. If you prick us, do we not bleed? If we cry do we not blow snot everywhere?"  
  
"Friends hand you tissues. Real friends blow your nose," she countered. "I'm Buffy."  
  
"Jamison." He wiped his fingers on his jeans before shaking her hand. "Wait, did you just say 'Buffy?'"  
  
"That depends. Are you going to make fun of it?"  
  
"Of course not. I've just heard the name mentioned, that's all."  
  
"You have? Who's been talking about me?"  
  
"Willy comes to confession every Monday. But don't mention it to anyone. I shouldn't be saying a word about confession."  
  
She frowned. "I thought only priests could hear confession."  
  
"So did I. Do you know something I don't?" His brown eyes twinkled.  
  
"You-you're a priest?" she sputtered.  
  
"Unless I broke my vows or got excommunicated since I woke up."  
  
"Well, where's your little collar thingie?"  
  
"In my room, on the dresser. I was going to touch up the varnish on the pews this morning, so I put on my grubbies."  
  
"And a good thing, too. Otherwise you'd have some strange girl's snot all over your priestly clothes."  
  
Buffy liked him. She could look him right in the eye without getting that creepy I-can-see-into-your-soul-vibe. Mom would say he was a "nice boy."  
  
"What?" Jamison asked.  
  
"What do you mean 'what?'"  
  
"I mean, what are you staring at me for?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"You have to have a reason. Someone staring at me for no reason creeps me out."  
  
"I was thinking about how ordinary you are."  
  
"Ordinary. Thank you."  
  
She blushed, for the first time in God only knows how long. "Oh no! I didn't mean 'ordinary.' I . . . well, you seem so normal."  
  
"Ah, the kiss of death."  
  
"I'm serious," Buffy said. "Sunnydale's a weird place. Your lack of weird is very refreshing." 


	3. The Exorcist--Part 3

"I guess that would call for a non-sarcastic thank you." He leaned back and crossed his arms.  
  
"Oh! I need to go." She jumped to her feet. "I said I wouldn't be gone long. I don't want anyone to worry. They-what's so funny?"  
  
"Nothing." Jamison tried to hide his grin.  
  
"A priest shouldn't lie."  
  
"Touché. You're funny. I didn't ask you why you have to go."  
  
"I was babbling, wasn't I?"  
  
"A bit. I'll walk you back," he said as he stood up.  
  
"You don't know where I'm going. I could be going way far, and you'd have to leave the church unattended."  
  
"It won't burn down if I step out for a few minutes. Are you trying to refuse my chivalry?"  
  
"Oh sure. Lay on the guilt."  
  
"Me? Guilt? I don't know what you're talking about." He reached for her elbow to guide her out, but quickly withdrew his hand. No touching.  
  
Buffy stopped outside the Magic Box and turned to Jamison.  
  
"This is the end of the line."  
  
"You work here?"  
  
"No. My friend Anya owns it. It's kind of a Grand Central Station for my friends." She looked behind her to make sure no one was peeking out the windows. "I'd invite you in, but-"  
  
"But I'm ordinary." He smiled.  
  
"You're not going to let that go, are you?"  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
"I figured. Look, it's not you. It's them. They're sort of touchy about religious stuff."  
  
"Nah, it's cool. I should get back to the church anyway. I left the candles burning."  
  
Buffy's face fell. She'd managed to forget, if only for a few minutes, but now the spell was broken.  
  
"Oh, please don't cry again. You'd have to dry off on my shirt."  
  
"I have to go." She backed away from him.  
  
"Will you be okay?" he asked.  
  
"Eventually."  
  
Jamison didn't watch her go inside. 


	4. The Exorcist--Part 4

Buffy expected Willow to interrogate her, demanding to know where she'd been for so long. Ever since the car accident, Willow had clung to Buffy, afraid to be left alone. She didn't yet trust herself to be able to stop dealing with magic on her own. But Willow didn't look up when Buffy entered. She was busy with her laptop.  
  
"Hi, Buffy," Anya greeted her. "We saved a jelly donut for you."  
  
"Thanks, but I'm not very hungry."  
  
"Oh. I didn't know it ruins your appetite."  
  
"What does?"  
  
"Your mom dying a year ago today."  
  
"Anya!" Willow scolded.  
  
"What? We're all thinking the same thing, but I always get yelled at for saying it."  
  
"Relax, guys," said Buffy. "You don't have to tiptoe around me. It makes me feel like I have two heads or something."  
  
Anya propped her elbows on the counter. "I don't understand. I didn't understand when she died, and I don't understand this. Why doesn't anyone talk about Joyce?"  
  
Willow came over. "We talk about her."  
  
"Sometimes Dawn says 'remember when,' but those aren't real memories. And Giles would say, 'Your mother would want you to,' to get Buffy to do something. But other than that, it's like she never existed."  
  
"She existed. We have Buffy," Willow said.  
  
"But I miss Joyce." Anya brushed tears from her cheek. "I hate being mortal," she muttered. "Whenever I'm sad, my face gets all wet."  
  
Buffy took her hand. "I miss her too. And I'm tired of how everyone gets quiet whenever the subject of death comes up. I don't want to talk about when she died . . . or when I died. But I don't want to forget about her either."  
  
"Well, it's too late," Anya said. "I'm starting to forget stuff."  
  
"This changes now. We all have to be honest with each other again. Without some tap dancing demon making us sing the truth . . . though I have to admit, that was some nice choreography."  
  
They lapsed into silence.  
  
"Okay," said Willow. "Let's get the honesty rolling. Where were you?"  
  
"Is it that big of a deal?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Yes," Anya replied. "You said you wouldn't be gone long, but you were."  
  
"I went to church and lit a candle for my mom."  
  
"Buffy, you might consider being a little more specific. Remember? Hellmouth equals pray hard equals forty-three churches."  
  
"Forty-four," Anya interjected. "The Moonies put up a shrine by the highway last month."  
  
"There are still Moonies around? Wow . . . I went to St. Michael's down the street. I would have said something if I'd known I was going to sit there and cry as long as I did."  
  
"Oh, Buffy-"  
  
She cut Willow off. "It's something I needed to do alone, and it's done and I feel better. Kind of. Anyway, I met the priest there. Nice guy. Younger than I expected, but-what?"  
  
Willow's mouth hung open. Anya had gone pale.  
  
"Buffy, a priest?" said Willow.  
  
"Just don't bring him around here," Anya added darkly.  
  
"What's the big?" Buffy asked, even though she knew it perfectly well.  
  
"I'm sure St. Michael's isn't in cahoots with the forces of evil, but think about it." Willow pointed to herself. "Jewish. Gay. Witch. Are we seeing the conflict here?"  
  
Anya shuddered. "Priests exorcise demons."  
  
"But you're an ex-demon."  
  
"Who knows what he could do to me? He could shake that water spritzer thing in my face or swing that ball of incense and I'd get all old and wrinkly."  
  
"Well, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. He didn't seem too amped on the idea of meeting everyone. He just walked me back here and left," Buffy said.  
  
Anya gasped. "He was right outside?" She dashed over to a mirror and inspected her face.  
  
"What's she doing?" Buffy asked Willow.  
  
"Making sure all those residual priest vibes didn't do any damage." 


End file.
